Lying Low
by Saturn's Sixth
Summary: After the resurrection of Voldemort in the graveyard, Remus and Sirius are living together after years apart. While the future becomes dark and uncertain, the two still struggle to move on from the past. RLSB Canon as far as I can take it.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:I have been a long time reader if fanfiction, but this is my first ever attempt so bear with me. I would like to take this further and maybe switch between this time and Marauder's era, which is why I've put the year at the start. Any feedback is extra welcome since I'm new to all this. I hope to have made it clear that there is a romantic history between these two, without going into too much detail because I hope to expand on that if I do the flashbacks. Disclaimer: J K Rowling owns everything. EVERYTHING.

"_That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore stepping between them once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old lot. Lie low at Lupin's for a while. I will contact you there. "_

1995

Sirius was resting his head on his paws, contemplating the row of terraced houses in front of him. It wasn't a problem trying to figure out which one was Remus'. He could smell the familiar werewolf scent and if he was honest with himself, he found it completely intoxicating, along with the concept of living with Remus again after all these years. He and Dumbledore had spoken of the possibility maybe, once his name had been forgotten and he was no longer sought after. Then the past few hours had happened.

A light came on in one of the windows. Movement. Sirius raised his head. It was in the house he knew was Remus'. The door hitched open.

"Sirius?"

Sirius twitched his tail and trotted towards the opening. Remus' tired face looked more quizzical than surprised at the sight of him. He didn't look as overjoyed at the reappearance of his old friend as Sirius might have hoped either.

"Sirius? What's wrong? Why are you here?" Sirius twisted his way round Remus' thin frame and into the house. He then transformed, taking care not to topple over the towers of books that were cluttered around the hallway. Remus had closed the door and was now eyeing him up.

"You look much better than last year. I guess Brazil -"

"Remus," Sirius cut him off. "That's really not why I'm here. Listen. Tonight. Voldemort returned. Barty Crouch Jr was being Moody with Polyjuice Potion and he set up the Triwizard Tournament so Harry would win and be transported to the Riddle's graves – the Cup was a Portkey – where they used his blood to resurrect Voldemort – Wormtail cut off his hand for him, the little grovelling bastard – then he tried to kill Harry but their wands connected somehow so Harry saw James and Lily's ghosts," Sirius found himself needing to pause here, "and then he managed to escape and come back to Hogwarts. Crouch was unmasked but that idiot Fudge brought a Dementor and it gave him the Kiss. Fudge is choosing not to believe Dumbledore and is ignoring Voldemort's return. Dumbledore's starting the Order of the Phoenix again. That's why I'm here."

Sirius was slightly embarrassed by the mess of an explanation he had given. He had been perfectly comprehensible when he had recounted events to Arabella and Mundungus. Remus certainly looked completely at a loss for words.

"Is Harry alright?" He managed to say.

"Physically, just a few cuts. Mentally, I don't know. Voldemort killed one of his classmates right in front of him, Remus."

"Christ. Come in here." Sirius followed him into the front room where he was motioned to sit down on a sagging sofa. One of the walls had a doorway into a tiny kitchen which Remus walked into now.

"Remus... uh, Dumbledore said I should stay here for a while.. I think we're still going to try and open up Grimmauld Place...but in the mean time – "

"Its fine, Sirius. I wasn't about to turn you away."

At these words, Sirius looked up, hoping to see some affection in Remus' face, but all he got was Remus waving a bottle of firewhiskey at him.

"Is it safe to offer you this?" he asked, not without a bit of harshness to his voice.

Sirius sighed. "Remus, I haven't got drunk since the night James and Lily died."

Remus gave a small grimace. He added a bit of firewhiskey to both of their cups of tea and joined Sirius on the sofa.

There was a silence.

"Nice spot you have here." Sirius offered.

Remus grunted. "I've stuck myself in between the worst set of Muggles possible. The woman next on the left seems to have about five babies all to herself, or she's running a babysitting service or something. Old man on the right refuses to wear hearing aids and has his TV turned up blaring all evening. Before I came here, I had never heard the words 'All Star Family Fortunes.' It was a perfect life."

Sirius chuckled. "And I suppose every full moon you're just as quiet?"

"I've had the top room completely soundproofed and werewolf proofed. No one comes in and I don't get out."

"It's a pity Snape couldn't keep making that potion for you."

Remus gave Sirius a sideways smirk. "You think he was going to do me any more favours after you escaped that night and stole all his chances for fame and fortune?"

Sirius smiled and they both lapsed into silence again. It seemed strange to be talking about such small things on this evening when such giant things had happened, but Sirius had a feeling it was their only way of coping. It certainly felt indescribably good to be in Remus' company again. He hadn't had a chance to enjoy it since they had met last year. Sirius had been out of the country, trying to make his trail go cold and Remus had been trying to keep a low profile, get another job where the employers wouldn't judge him on his lycanthropy. A task in which, Sirius guessed from the state of his home, Remus had been unsuccessful.

"Sirius?"

Sirius jerked his head up from where he had been staring at the coffee table. Remus' eyes were also fixed on his cup of tea and whisky. His was almost empty, while Sirius' had barely been touched. Sirius did not miss the touch of irony in this but decided not to take that thought any further.

"While I think Dumbledore is right in keeping you here for now...and it's probably safest until you can move into Grimmauld Place...I don't think we...what I mean to say is we should probably try and not complicate things...thirteen years was a long time..."

Sirius nodded.

"Is there a spare room?" he asked.

Remus gave a small smile. "Well, it's more a cupboard than a room, but if Harry can manage, I daresay you can. I have a spare mattress."

"Already it's better than Azkaban."

It was only after they'd dragged the mattress into the tiny space that Sirius realised how tired he was. Remus bid him goodnight and he collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

It had been a long time since Sirius had been this confused about the direction his life was taking. The seventies had been colourful blur of ecstasy. He'd had the best friends in the world, and in the latter half of the decade, dare he say it, the best lover. Even the rise of Voldemort had not greatly bothered him, there had been a sense of comradery, pride in him and James, Remus and Peter going off to fight against evil. At least there had been at first. The eighties, in utter contrast, were just an empty void of complete hopeless. Sirius couldn't think of a memory he had of life in Azkaban that lasted more than a minute at a time. What he had gone through couldn't even be described as depression, there had just been no emotion at all.

And now? Sirius couldn't get himself to feel excited about the future. How could he, what with the events of the past evening? But at the same time, it shamed him to admit that he was actually looking forward to the prospect of joining the Order of the Phoenix again, fighting for a just cause and generally just being more useful than he had been in the last thirteen years. And he was living with Remus again. Just knowing that it was Remus sleeping down the corridor from him and not just twenty or so convicted Death Eaters lifted Sirius' spirits in more ways than he'd like to admit.

Sirius rolled onto his stomach and turned his head into the pillow. Enough. He slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Autumn 1971

You could say it all started that day when Remus had come out of the shower and into the dormitory, whistling a Gershwin tune as he dried his hair. He beat out the rhythm at the dinner table with his cutlery and hummed it loudly when they were all on their beds in the evening.

"Well done Remmie, you've succeeded in making that the only song that I will ever have in my head again. Now please shut it." James groaned.

He was cross legged on the floor, bits of card and glue scattered round him and the half finished model of Camelot in front of him. James had an obsessive personality, as a child it had come out in activities such as Chocolate Frog card collecting or stealing his father's quills. In his first two years of Hogwarts it had been model making, although these models would soon be forgotten in the introduction of a certain redhead. This particular evening however, James was curled over his model, his lower lip protruding and his brow furrowed, making him seem altogether apelike. Or so it appeared to Lupin at least. Smirking, he lowered his head his head back into his own lap and returned his attention to the hefty hardback that lay there.

Five minutes later and Sirius had to catch himself when he started humming the tune as he was attempting to turn the hairs on the backs of his fingers purple. He moaned.

"I don't even know what the bloody song is! Damn you, Remus."

"I can't remember the name of it either," admitted Remus, chuckling. "Its one of the tunes my mum taught me on our piano."

"Well, next time you see your mum, give her this from me." Sirius threw his pillow at Remus' head. Remus, laughing, heaved his book out of harm's way and returned the favour.

"Honestly, if anyone throws a pillow anywhere near this, I will have both your intestines for Christmas decorations," grumbled James. Peter, who had been watching James' actions intently, moved to shield the model from possible pillow attacks. This got a laugh and a well aimed pillow from Sirius.

"Pete! You his bodyguard or something?"

Peter retorted by jumping up and tackling Sirius to the floor. James sighed. He carefully slid the unfinished castle under his bed, went to pick up his own pillows, and entered the fray.

In the past month, James and Sirius had gotten into the habit of wandering the castle after hours. Remus wasn't quite brave enough to join them and in any case, it wasn't like he had been invited. It didn't bother Remus, not in the way that he could clearly see it bothered Peter, that he wasn't being asked to come along. Remus had grown up alone. He couldn't say he ever felt lonely, because he had never had the experience of having close friends to compare the feeling to. He had grown to enjoy his own company. Peter on the other hand, could hardly conceal his longing to be part of Sirius and James' adventures. He would hang on their every word and Remus had already noticed him echoing some of James characteristic expressions. Remus couldn't tell whether James was choosing to ignore Peter's sometimes ridiculous behaviour or if in fact he was secretly flattered by it.

Even so, it was Remus and Peter that routinely stayed behind their curtains while Sirius and James snuck out into the night.

One night was different however.

At around quarter to midnight Remus' nose was promptly squashed by the large amount of Sirius that fell on it. Him and James had already been out a couple of hours and Remus had just been teetering into sleep, which is why he hadn't heard their quiet return into the dormitory and onto his face.

"Gotta come see, Remmie!" said Sirius, making a bad attempt at whispering. There was already movement in Peter's bed.

"What's going on? Where's everyone going?"

"Come on you lot, we'll wake up the tower." James looked over the three boys with an air of superiority, his arms crossed, a stupid grin on his face.

The stone floor of the castle corridor froze their toes; they'd all forgotten their slippers, even James and Sirius, who really should have known better from their previous outing. After ten minutes of goose bumps and chattering teeth they came to a grandly engraved door. They paused to gaze up at it in wonder.

"The strangest thing," James whispered, "was that I could have sworn we came down this corridor earlier in the night and this room wasn't here."

Sirius smiled, biting his lower lip in anticipation. He had to lean his whole body on the wooden frame to get it open. They slipped inside.

The room was covered in dust; it stuck to their bare feet like sand. The walls were draped with equally grimy curtains. But it was what was in the centre of the room, being as elegantly out of place as a chandelier in a dungeon, which really caught Remus' eye.

"A grand piano?"

"Come on Remus, you said you could play," Sirius' eyes sparked out from beneath his unkempt hair.

He sat down at the piano. He paused with his fingers on the keys. His mother had not taught him properly, he couldn't read music or tell you a quaver from a crotchet. Instead it was like remembering a dance. Keeping to a rhythm, remembering where to put your fingers and in which order. He knew which song to play anyway.

He began the Gershwin song and James cheered, grabbing hold of Peter and dancing him around the piano. Sirius bounded on top of the piano and started his own dance, lifting up his dressing gown like imaginary skirts, kicking up the dust as if he was a Cancan dancer.

It was at this moment, when Remus was gazing up at his unruly friend prancing about on top of a piano while his own fingers danced across the black and white, that he really knew.


End file.
